


will it patch your broken wings?

by glimbows



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, a fuckton of symbolism. also my first time writing julie <3, a little bit of a luke char study ig. but it's all juke, happy birthday luke (sad edition), oh yeah we got that post ep 5 hurt/comfort here, this all came from one little cute hc i had so please enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimbows/pseuds/glimbows
Summary: The charm is plain in comparison but gives the whole look a little extra something. Even as he traces the curve of the little antennae, Luke can’t quite put his finger on it. He just knows it’s meant to be there in the same way that they’re meant to play with Julie.or,While riddled with guilt for skipping out on Julie at the dance, Luke picks up something at a thrift store that reminds him of her.
Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 229





	will it patch your broken wings?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm only seventeen, i don't know anything, but i know i miss you. 
> 
> \- betty, taylor swift. 
> 
> /
> 
> takes place during s1 ep6, finally free.

There’s an unease where his stomach is supposed to be. It has nothing to do with the jolts that have been ripping through what’s left of his body and everything to do with the way Julie looked at him before running out of the gymnasium. 

In the moment, the shock that felt too much like death was way worse, but at least it didn’t linger. Not like Julie’s disappointment in them did. 

Luke tries to ignore it, tries to ignore everything for the sake of positivity as they move from the coffee house to a thrift store on the same street. There’s nothing he can do now but wait. Julie won’t be home from school to hear their wicked awesome plan for at least another two hours, which means that they have time to kill. An unspoken curiosity washes over the trio as they stand outside the place. 

The windows are packed with rusted bikes, old lawn chairs, mega-creepy dolls, and the ugliest lamps known to man. What exists beyond the display clutter is a mystery, everything stacked too high to see beyond. Still, the mess evokes the same questions in all of them. 

It’s like a time capsule. An exhibit, a whole 25+ years they can speed-ghost through. That kind of temptation is unbearable, as proven by Reggie, the first one to phase past the door. Luke makes a point of smacking the overhead bell as he and Alex follow. It doesn’t even startle the cashier, which is disappointing. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the job. 

“There’s barely any room to walk around in here,” Alex observes. 

“Good thing we don’t have bodies.” Reggie says. He takes a chipper step forward through an end table. 

The bell rings again, and only this time does the cashier react, looking up to greet a middle-aged woman with beads in her hair as she enters. Not wanting to get walked through, Luke takes that as his sign to follow Reggie.

Soon enough, they’re in the thick of it, none of them saying much as the history of the place weighs on them. Alex is barely paying attention as they aimlessly peruse the aisles, hands stuffed in his pockets. It’s beyond obvious that even in a place like this, his focus is off. Reggie, however, is very invested in a leather jacket that looks near-identical to his own. 

And Luke doesn’t know what exactly he’s looking for. He just knows his eyes are bigger than his face and that too much time has passed. A lot of this stuff shouldn’t be considered _ old _ yet. 

He moves on from a display of ceramic horses to a small, hand painted Nativity scene. It’s both nothing like and far too reminiscent of the one his mother used to put up on the living room bookshelf when he was a kid. Everyone is accounted for except the birthday boy himself, one small, baby shaped piece missing from the faded-yellow bed of hay.

Luke scoffs to himself. How can you have Christmas without Jesus? 

He wonders if his parents still have their little Nativity figurines. They wouldn’t stop celebrating Christmas unless God himself came down and told them to, but he doubts they’d keep hanging up his handmade kindergarten tree ornaments without him there to flush and roll his eyes at them. Just like Jesus missing from his bed, it would be another painful reminder of what was once there, of what was long gone. 

Does his mom still make chocolate cake now that he isn’t around to lick the batter from the spoon? Did his dad throw out his pathetic collection of baseball cards even though Luke hadn’t cared about them since he was nine? Something almost valuable like that could end up in a dusty place like this. 

Hell, his whole childhood could. 

Luke guesses he’ll find out when he goes to visit later. Can’t have a birthday without the birthday boy. 

Or maybe you can, and he’s just in for one disappointment after another. 

“Hey, check this out,” Reggie all but poofs next to him, causing him to jump and merge through the armoire housing the figurines.

In the bassist’s hands is a flimsy piece of paper with print so small Luke has to practically squint to see it. Recognition blooms across his face when he realizes he’s reading the lyrics to Pearl Jam’s “Alive.” It’s like fucking coming home again. 

“Rad, man,” he tapes a ringed finger to the tape. “Do they have the cassette?” 

Reggie shakes his head. “Nah, Alex and I just found a whole box of old tapes all jammed together. They have a bunch, though. Soundgarden, Nirvana, you name it. Cool, right?” 

It would be if they were at a record shop with their wallets full of stuff they’d drummed up from busking on the beach. Luke lowers his hand to fiddle with his chain, suddenly so aware of how antiquated it is. Of how old they are and how, if they were to suddenly become visible, the sleepy cashier would likely put them on display and slap a price tag on their foreheads. 

He hates it. He was supposed to be a legend, not an antique. 

“Guys, we should get back to the garage,” Alex says as he rounds a corner. Luke notices that he looks a bit less dazed. 

“Shit, did we lose track of time again?” They have  _ got _ to start paying more attention to these things. 

"Yeah. If we want time to rehearse our apology, we gotta move.” 

Reggie runs to politely return the Pearl Jam tape to where he found it, leaving Luke to step out from his place halfway within the armoire. His hand moves against something small and promptly sends it clattering to the floor. Alex turns to watch him attempt to pick it up, a curious look on his face. 

“What did you do?” 

“I dunno, I wasn’t even concentrating on it,” Luke answers as he kneels over. 

Upon further inspection of the floor, he finds the source of the commotion: a small, silver butterfly charm. 

His fingers graze it again all too easily, and he feels the chill of the metal. Luke squints when he doesn’t have to try to pick it up, one hand wrapped around a wing, the other still tangled up in the chain dangling from his pants. 

“It’s a butterfly.” He tells Alex. 

“That it is.” 

The drummer locks eyes with him, brows raised. Not even Luke himself understands what he’s doing, so it must look extra weird to anyone else. 

Still, something compels him to tug on his pants chain. It’s already riddled with random shit, including, but not limited to an obnoxious Super Mario print wallet and lucky rabbit’s foot. The charm is plain in comparison to them, but gives the whole look a little extra something. Even as he traces the curve of the little antennae, Luke can’t quite put his finger on it. He just knows it’s meant to be there in the same way that they’re meant to play with Julie. 

“You gonna pay for that?” Alex asks with a grin that says he already knows the answer. 

Luke shrugs and lets the chain fall back against his thigh. “I doubt I’m gonna kill off their business. What are they gonna do, arrest me for shoplifting?” 

“Touche.” 

Time catches up with them once they leave the thrift shop to rejoin their own otherworldly throe of society. Full of nervous energy, Luke pries the darts he’d previously thrown from the garage wall and winds up once again. 

Julie’s going to come home from school, head to the garage, listen to their extremely heartfelt apology, be amazed that he’d booked them their biggest gig yet, and rejoin the band with a smile on her face. 

Distracted, he throws the dart right into the wing of a butterfly decal on the wall. 

* * *

He ends up fiddling with the butterfly charm for the rest of the afternoon. 

When time passes in his childhood home, Luke feels it. It moves so slow, with so much agony that he could numb if he just poofed away, if he just stopped twisting the knife further into his side. 

The kitchen smells of chocolate cake. The batter bowl is washed and done away with by the time he gets there. His mother is trying not to cry and Luke is doing the same.

It’s his birthday party, and the butterfly charm, his gift to himself, means everything and nothing to him now. Maybe there’s some truth to what Julie said about how he’s too obsessed with his past to care about the present. 

But if that was really the case, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to prove himself still. To his parents, who can’t see him. To Julie, who, when they write music together, feels like the only person who can. 

If that was really the case, he wouldn’t be gripping that stupid butterfly like a vice under the kitchen table as he leans in to blow out his candle. 

* * *

The guilt stays with him even after she forgives him enough to rejoin the band. 

Luke doesn’t know what kind of highly philosophical bug bit her while he was off having a crisis of his own, but he knows better than to complain about it when she’s here belting her face off into the mic. 

But still, it’s ironic that they’re going to be performing “Finally Free” tonight when he still feels bogged down by the mistake he made. For once, he can’t tell if Alex and Reggie, who are happily workshopping their harmonies, feel the same way. It hits him then that maybe they were the ones to talk to Julie and bring her back, meaning that out of all of them, he’s the only one that still has wounds to stitch up with her. 

He can’t think of what to say to her, though. Not after his monumental flub earlier ( _ “We need you in the band,” _ Yeah, no shit!) or the way she knocked him back on his ass. What’s he supposed to follow up with? What’s he supposed to say to “happy birthday” when he hasn’t aged in 25 years? When he just spent said birthday sobbing over a cake he didn’t even get to enjoy? 

Despite the fact that he’s not really paying attention to what he’s playing, Luke hits every note, just happy to have his guitar in his hands again. The right words will come to him in due time. They always do. 

“You sound like you’ve got that down,” Julie says eventually. Her tone of voice makes him wonder how long she’s been paying attention to him. 

“I hope so,” he replies. “I did write it. Should be able to play it in my sleep by now.” 

“You don’t sleep,” 

He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t fucking sleep. God, what is the matter with him? 

“You know what I mean.” Luke shoots a glance in the direction of the other boys. They’re engrossed in their own process, giving him a moment to slink off towards the keyboard. “How are you feeling with it? Remember all the lyrics?” 

“I think so. I’ve kinda had this on the brain since last week, so…” 

If she didn’t see him have a mild panic beforehand, it would be hard to miss the one washing over him now. Of fucking course she was ready to perform “Finally Free.” She’d been ready to perform it the night of the dance before they went and bailed on her. She probably knew it better than he did and it was  _ his fucking song _ .

Luke’s shoulders slump, causing him to shrug his guitar strap farther up to keep it in place. And he’s still waiting for the words, but the words just aren’t coming. He wishes he had his notebook to scribble a bunch of gibberish in. 

“Thanks for getting us this gig, by the way. I’ve heard about Eats and Beats before, and it’s supposed to be pretty legit as far as open mic nights go.” 

Great, now she’s thanking him. He doesn’t know what’s worse, that or her disappointed Julie voice. Probably the latter, but this still makes him feel weird. 

“Hey, this is for all of us. It’s really the least I could do.” An understatement. “ I’m pretty sure we’re the last act of the night. There was only the one spot left when I scribbled us down, so. We’ll give ‘em something to remember.”

She looks at him curiously. He keeps trying to find traces of annoyance in her smile. “Do you have a preference for when you go on or something?”

He used to think he did, back when he was young (even if he’s still the same age, he feels older) and wild and trying to climb the LA party scene ladder. The pace they’ve been going at now is dizzying to him in that it’s so much slower in comparison. Luke can’t believe he was ever a snob about their first gig being a school dance when he’d admitted to Julie that Sunset Curve used to play  _ book clubs.  _

He guesses he can’t really call that their first gig now, though.  _ Stupid.  _

“Not really.” his playing has turned more into idle riffing. “I just want to play. We’ll be so good it doesn’t matter, first or last, book club or open mic night, they won’t be able to remember anyone else was even signed up.” 

Julie rolls her eyes at his enthusiasm, but there’s a fond smile on her face. Luke feels something flutter in his chest. He absently messes with the butterfly charm, the cool of the silver against his finger somewhat calming. 

“I mean it! After tonight, the name on everybody's lips is going to be Julie.” 

“ _ And _ the Phantoms,” she cuts in, head bobbing just a bit. It’s adorable, but only because she’s the one doing it. “We’re a band, remember? This is an us thing.” 

Even though she couldn’t more clearly be referring to the band as a whole, his traitorous heart, the one that’s not supposed to be beating anymore, makes him imagine a split-second world where  _ us _ means  _ them _ as in _ Luke and Julie _ . Just Luke and Julie, no matter the impossibilities or what came before. 

“Yeah, we are. Thanks to you, though.” he looks down, bashful. The words are finally working their way through him. “We as in me and the boys wouldn’t be… much of a band if it weren’t for you, Julie, and the fact that you’re willing to play with us. It really means a lot.” 

She looks down at the keyboard thoughtfully, like she saw this coming. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had. They’ve been getting awfully good at reading each other as of late.

“It’s a two-way street, Luke. You guys help give me the confidence to get up on stage and, in a way, I guess I kinda do the same thing.” her point is punctuated with a smile. A sweet one that nearly makes him mess up a riff with no set parameters. “That’s what makes us a good band.” 

Behind her, he notices a vase and recognizes the pink flowers within it as the same kind his mother had in her kitchen. Luke wants to compare her to one of them, to write a million sappy love songs despite never being able to really complete one before. He’s not a romantic, but he feels like he’s got the words in him to qualify as one when she looks at him like that. If he had his pen, he would tell his notebook that even though she thinks she’s still some partially shrinking violet, he knows she has all the power she needs to bloom at her own fingertips. He’s seen it himself. He’s just lucky to witness her, to be something she thinks she needs. 

“Uhh, Luke? You good?” 

Fuck. He zoned out into writing mode.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good, I totally agree.” he goes to play something “Finally Free” adjacent when he notices his hand tangled up in his pants chain, fingers cradling the butterfly charm, with no clue when he started to do so. 

“Are you sure?” She sounds like she’s about to laugh at him. It’s not the worst thing she could do. 

“Totally. I-I just, uh, really want this performance to kick ass. Guess I’m a little nervous.” 

“You? Nervous? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

He considers biting his tongue but finds it useless to do so when he’s spent so long trying to find the right thing to say. He might as well. 

“I just don’t wanna let you down again. I’m never gonna let you down again, Julie.” 

Any background noise from his strumming is now gone, faded away as he lets his guitar rest against his chest, hands stimming against the metal by his belt. The gradual shift in Julie’s face is put to the music of Alex and Reggie harmonizing in the background. To Luke, it sounds like they’re miles away. 

“Luke,” 

“I mean it. The only thing I wanna do is make it up to you.” To prove himself, always to prove himself. “That’s why I’m so excited you came back, ‘cause they’re not gonna be able to deny you tonight. The second you open your mouth, they’re gonna be hooked. I can’t be the reason that, all because of one stupid mistake, you never get that chance.” 

The air between them is charged. It always is, but he notices it gets less and less deniable each time it happens. 

She stares at him from behind her glasses, the same ones she wore when they first met, and he sees once again the difference in her just over the course of a few weeks. For her to already be this amazing is unbelievable. It’s his duty to, as the one who ripped her wings clear off, try everything to patch them up again. 

“Is that a butterfly?” 

“What?” A whole heartfelt speech and she’s asking him  _ that? _

Julie stands up from behind her keyboard, eyes just as wide, and crosses towards him. Luke follows her gaze beyond his guitar, lifting it up slightly across his chest so she can get a better look at what he’s sporting. 

She approaches it with the same careful intensity he did when he first knocked it on the thrift store floor. He doesn’t know why, she’ll obviously be able to touch it, but he reluctantly moves his hand away so she doesn’t phase through it. If he had breath to hold, he would definitely be holding it and pretends he’s doing so anyway as she inspects it. 

Slowly, a smile blooms across her face. A healing one. 

“I love butterflies.” On her wall, her hair clips, in her locker… 

Luke feels them in his chest, along with something else he can’t say. Something much too similar, so he settles for: “I know you do.” 

“Where’d you get this?” 

“Uh, a thrift shop. It’s right by Eats and Beats if you wanna…” 

Julie stands up straighter, clearing her throat and fixing her hair as she returns the charm to him. Once he’s positive her hand is back at her side, he takes the butterfly back between his fingers. 

“Go sometime? Yeah. I’d love that. My mom was actually, uh, really into that kind of stuff.” 

He wants to tell her how rad that is, how rad  _ she _ is, and work hard to deserve that sunshine smile a million times over — but it’s then that Alex and Reggie decide that they’re finished their rehearsal and decide to turn their full attention to their bandmates. Luke steps back with some hesitation, though it never feels wrong to return his hands to his guitar. 

* * *

He makes sure to wear the butterfly charm for their performance that night. 

She’s radiant, the shooting star he knew she would be as she gets into her belting stance and blows the roof off the damn place. All Luke can do is stare, hands flying, smile growing wider. 

If it was earlier in the day, he’d remind himself how foolish he was for missing out on this a few nights ago for the Hollywood Ghost Club and the mere prospect of revenge. But if Julie can be so forgiving towards him, maybe he can try and do the same. 

Instead, all Luke can think about is how alive he feels. Gone is the antique weight from his phantom shoulders, the spotlight a warmth on him even if he technically can’t feel it. This is what he was born to do, and this is what he died to do. 

Of course, none of it is possible without Julie. He wears the charm tonight not just because it fits on his chain, but because it honors her. Because when she hits her high notes and prances around shaking her tambourine because when she dives towards him and puts their lips almost close enough to touch, she’s the only thing in any plane of the world. 

She loves butterflies. And he, front row to her spreading her wings wide, realizes something. 

She loves butterflies and he loves her. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was me hurtling myself into the jatp fanfic world after being a diehard fan for about a month and a half now! i had the hc early on that it would be super cute if luke had a little butterfly charm on that dumb chain of his, and things kind of spiraled out of control from there. 
> 
> a big, huge thank you to my wife @spellbelle for beta-ing (mostly her just cursing me out) and for feeding my hyperfixation all this time and every time. 
> 
> please leave a comment if you liked! means the entire world! and come find me on tumblr @ollydobson 💜✨


End file.
